was satisfied.

"My dear, what did Mr. Spooner say to you during his walk?" This
question was asked by the ill-natured old lady in the presence of
nearly all the party.

"We were talking of hunting," said Adelaide.

"And did the poor old woman get her half-sovereign?"

"No;--he forgot that. We did not go into the village at all. I was
tired and came back."

"Poor old woman;--and poor Mr. Spooner!"

Everybody in the house knew what had occurred, as Mr. Spooner's
discretion in the conduct of this affair had not been equal to his
valour; but Miss Palliser never confessed openly, and almost taught
herself to believe that the man had been mad or dreaming during that
special hour.

CHAPTER XX

Phineas Again in London

Phineas, on his return to London, before he had taken his seat in the
House, received the following letter from Lady Laura Kennedy:--

Dresden, Feb. 8, 1870.

DEAR FRIEND,--

I thought that perhaps you would have written to me from
Harrington. Violet has told me of the meeting between you
and Madame Goesler, and says that the old friendship seems
to have been perfectly re-established. She used to think
once that there might be more than friendship, but I
never quite believed that. She tells me that Chiltern is
quarrelling with the Pallisers. You ought not to let him
quarrel with people. I know that he would listen to you.
He always did.

I write now especially because I have just received so
dreadful a letter from Mr. Kennedy! I would send it you
were it not that there are in it a few words which on his
behalf I shrink from showing even to you. It is full of
threats. He begins by quotations from the Scriptures, and
from the Prayer-Book, to show that a wife has no right to
leave her husband,--and then he goes on to the law. One
knows all that of course. And then he asks whether he ever
ill-used me? Was he ever false to me? Do I think, that
were I to choose to submit the matter to the iniquitous
practices of the present Divorce Court, I could prove
anything against him by which even that low earthly
judge would be justified in taking from him his marital
authority? And if not,--have I no conscience? Can I
reconcile it to myself to make his life utterly desolate
and wretched simply because duties which I took upon
myself at my marriage have become distasteful to me?

These questions would be very